


The Puppet and The Puppeteer

by ANKLE



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji-centric, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Abuse, Emotional Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Physical Abuse, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, eventual Bokuaka, please mind the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28298124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANKLE/pseuds/ANKLE
Summary: Akaashi has been lying to everyone about his life for over a year. Nobody knows a thing about his life anymore, and now it's all catching up to him following a suicide attempt.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 65





	1. LOUD

**one.**

* * *

Loud.

That was the only thing rattling around in Akaashi’s broken skull as he stared up at the clouds passing up above. The pavement against his back was sharp and cold, something he was more than familiar with. The flashing lights were even loud. They made painful stabbing noises as they flickered in Akaashi’s peripherals.

He wasn’t thinking about how much pain he was in. He wasn’t thinking about how he couldn’t really see from one eye, hot blood blinding him. He wasn’t thinking about how he was still breathing, still conscious. He was thinking about how fucking  _ loud _ it was. The flashing lights, the occasional whoops of the police vehicles, the ambulance, the firetruck. The horns of people held up in traffic, wondering what the hell was going on and when the fuck it would clear up. The shouting around him, the man crouched beside him, trying to establish contact.

Where were the clouds going? Why couldn’t Akaashi go with them?

Hands on his body, grasping him carefully as his neck is suffocated with a brace and he’s slid onto a stretcher. He closes his eyes, exhaling heavily. The stretcher is lifted and then pushed towards the ambulance.

Akaashi wondered where Bokuto was. What was he doing today? Training, probably. Or maybe he was at a photoshoot, or maybe he was filming a commercial to endorse some new energy drink or sportswear.

“Can I have my phone?” Akaashi asked, gazing up at the paramedic who was speaking to him earlier. “I want to call a friend.”

The paramedic’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. He wasn’t looking at Akaashi. Of all the noise, why couldn’t Akaashi hear his words. Did he even hear Akaashi? Had Akaashi even spoken? Why wasn’t anyone making any  _ sense _ ?

The siren again; Akaashi grimaced. He lifted a numb hand, blinking and looking at his palm. It was bloody, tiny pebbles embedded into the heel of his palm. The writing that was on his palm was illegible now. Smudged; hidden by dirt and blood. Akaashi couldn’t remember if it was important. It sure didn’t seem important anymore, not if he couldn’t remember it.

The paramedic grabbed the hand and began wiping it clean. Akaashi watched as the alcohol smudged the writing even further until it was practically completely gone. He couldn’t even feel the sting of the alcohol in his scrapes. Then his hand was wrapped in a bandage and placed at his side.

Whatever Akaashi had written on his hand wasn’t important anymore. With his head bleeding, matting his hair and staining the stretcher beneath him, a silly little note on a palm was irrelevant. Nobody cared, least of all Akaashi anymore.

If he’d cared, he wouldn’t have stepped in front of the truck.

* * *

The other person in Akaashi’s room had died earlier that day, leaving him the only resident for the time being. In the room’s bathroom, Akaashi’s nurse helped him shower, and maybe helped him with a little bit more.

“Ah, ah, fuck, Yasui,” Akaashi breathed, clutching the nurse’s hair tightly.

“Call me Shinji, Keiji,” Shinji said, still stroking Akaashi’s cock as he sucked on the skin of Akaashi’s neck.

“Shinji,” gasped Akaashi, knees shaking. He moaned and quietly reached his climax, semen spurting up. Some landed on his chest, some on Shinji’s hand.

“Turn around, hold onto the bar,” Yasui demanded, turning Akaashi around and bending him over. Yasui stayed out of the stream of water from the shower, leaving Akaashi’s lowered head to be drenched. And then Shinji pushed himself into Akaashi slowly, pulling him backwards with hands on his hips.

Akaashi groaned from the burn; from the lack of lubricant and lack of preparation. He felt seconds away from collapsing, the world starting to spin and swirl around him and he wondered if he should tell Shinji, but the feeling of him slowly fucking him shut him up, the only sounds coming from his mouth incoherent moans.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Shinji groaned, rolling his hips and making Akaashi jolt. He quickened his pace slightly and Akaashi let out a higher moan, tinged with pain.

“Wait, slow down, it still kind of hurts,” he said, reaching behind him.

“Can’t,” was all Shinji said, pulling apart Akaashi’s cheeks and watching his cock slide in and out. “The other nurse’s will start to wonder where I am. Gotta make this quick.”

Akaashi adjusted himself, gripping the bar tighter as he felt his brain tug nauseatingly. “Fine, just don’t- don’t cum inside.”

Eventually, Shinji reached his own climax, pulling out of Akaashi and cumming over his back. Akaashi grimaced, mildly disgusted. Shinji finished helping Akaashi shower, got him back into bed, and then left to continue his other duties. 

In bed, Akaashi turned on the TV, flicking through the channels until he came to the volleyball channel. There wasn’t a live game playing, but a rerun of one of the MSBY games was on. Akaashi sniffed drily and watched the game, only partially paying attention. He hadn’t told Bokuto that he was in the hospital yet, nor had he told him what happened even.

It was an interesting feeling; a strange sense of power and control that Akaashi had withholding the information. He’d texted Bokuto since stepping in front of the truck, he’d spoken with him on the phone once. But Bokuto wasn’t aware that the Akaashi he was talking to was sitting in a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around a now shaved head. Bokuto had no idea that Akaashi was fucking his nurse. The Akaashi that lived in Bokuto’s head was thriving, working in the literature department at his company.

Bokuto knew nothing. His Akaashi was already dead, and had been for quite some time. That Akaashi had been violently stamped out. The exact thing that killed him was hard to pinpoint. It could have been the Xanax, or the Adderall, or the new addiction to cigarettes, or the excessive and unhealthy drinking, or the fucking, or the cutting. Whatever it was didn’t matter. Akaashi Keiji of Fukurodani Academy was dead.

Atsumu sent a set to Bokuto, and Bokuto powerfully spiked it onto the other court. The team celebrated the deciding point. Akaashi smiled bitterly, knowing he wasn’t as important as he originally thought he was. Replacing him was much easier that he wanted to believe.

So maybe that’s why he tried to kill himself. If he died, the world would replace him and continue on as normal.


	2. BILL

**two.**

* * *

The bill.

Two days ago Akaashi was discharged from the hospital and he just remembered staring at the doctor as she told him that he was fit to leave and that his bill would be waiting at reception for him as he checked out.

It hadn’t really occurred to Akaashi that failing meant a hefty hospital bill. Leaning against the receptionist’s desk, staring at the itemized bill felt like a punch to the gut. This was what he got for living? He didn’t ask to be saved. He didn’t ask the pedestrians to call the ambulance. He didn’t ask to be forced to remain at the hospital under suicide watch for two days just to increase his bill.

His work insurance lessened the blow slightly, but not nearly enough. Not nearly enough to keep him from attempting to kill himself again just to get away from the embarrassing inability to pay his hospital bill.

Akaashi thanked the receptionist and got on the bus, wearing clothes he was given from the lost and found bin. His own clothes were torn and bloody, and he didn’t have anyone to bring him clean clothes from his apartment. So he put on a stranger’s oversized jeans and an XXL t-shirt with some unrecognizable logo on it, the art so faded and worn away he could barely tell what it said.

He could have used a sweater. He should have asked for a sweater. To hide his disgusting, scarred arms and his hideous, shaved head.

Akaashi missed his stop. He didn’t realize until he was ten minutes  _ past _ his apartment complex. He struggled to remember what he was thinking about that made him miss his stop. His head was so foggy. It hadn’t been clear for weeks, but the harsh hit to his head as the truck slammed him to the road didn’t help at all.

When Akaashi returned to his apartment, he was met with fruit flies and garbage. He stared at the beer bottles on the coffee table in front of the TV, the beer cans on the counter, the empty bottle of bourbon in the sink. His chest burned as he stared at the ashtray on the counter, one unfinished cigarette had fallen out beside it. There were squishy, brown apples in the corner of the counter. There were dishes and bowls on the table.

Akaashi ignored it all and trudged to his bedroom. It was messy, but at least it wasn’t the filth that was his kitchen and living room. With an aching chest and a spinning head, Akaashi collapsed onto his bed and draped an arm over his eyes, breathing heavily. What was he supposed to do now?

He rolled over and tore open the top drawer of his bedside table. He pushed aside the lube and the vibrator and grabbed the two little orange bottles. He flipped them over, read the labels, and opened up the one labelled as  _ Alprazolam _ . He tossed the pill into his mouth and took a swig of the water bottle that had been sitting on his nightstand since before he’d attempted suicide.

Returning to his position with his arm over his eyes, Akaashi wondered if he would be able to get more Xanax from Shinji. It would probably be easier than going through his dealer. The demand for it was high, and sometimes he had to wait over a week before he could get more.

As Akaashi’s consciousness started to fade as the effects of the drug started to numb him and relax his body, his phone rang, buzzing irritatingly beside him. He slid his arm off his face and lolled his head to his shoulder, focusing his eyes on the name lighting up his phone.

_ Koutarou. _

Akaashi slid a finger to answer the call and tapped the speaker phone, grunting to let Bokuto know he was there.

_ “Hey, are you okay?” _

Akaashi thought about the question. Thought about telling Bokuto the truth about what was really going on.

“Yes,” he responded, forcing his voice to sound more awake than he felt. “Why do you ask?”

_ “Tenma texted me. He said you haven’t been into work for a few days and you haven’t answered any of his texts or calls.” _

“I didn’t notice,” Akaashi said, too fucking exhausted to come up with an excuse, a lie, to tell Bokuto about his actual whereabouts.

There was a short pause.  _ “You didn’t notice you’ve missed work?” _

Akaashi needed to redirect the conversation. He sighed tiredly, nuzzling into his pillow.

“I didn’t notice I missed his texts and calls. Shouldn’t you be training right now, Bokuto? Or practising or something? Whatever you do.” 

Another pause, this time longer.  _ “Are you okay?”  _ Bokuto asked again.

Akaashi was getting irritated. “Yes, I’m fine. I’ll call Tenma.”

_ “You sound drunk, Keiji.” _

Didn’t Bokuto have a signing, or a conference, or practice he should be at?

“I’m not drunk, I was just about to fall asleep for a nap. I’m tired, that’s all.”

_ “Okay, well I’ll let you sleep then. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” _

“You don’t have to do that,” Akaashi said, silently begging Bokuto to leave him alone.

Pause. Why did Bokuto keep pausing?

_ “I’ll give you a call tomorrow,”  _ he repeated.  _ “Goodnight.” _

“Yeah, night,” Akaashi mumbled, ending the call and immediately falling asleep. 


	3. PHONE CALL

**three.**

* * *

A phone call.

_ BZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZ. _

“Fuck, Shinji! Fuck! Harder, go faster,” Akaashi moaned, arching his back into Yasui’s chest as he scraped his nails across his shoulders. His thighs quivered as he lifted and lowered himself to meet Shinji’s hips.

_ BZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZ. _

Shinji lifted Akaashi and then turned them around and tossed him onto the bed. Akaashi spread his legs and felt Shinji push himself back inside of his ass. He mewled loudly, throwing his head back as he reached between their bodies to tug at his cock.

_ BZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZ. _

“Should you get that?” Shinji heaved, stopping momentarily and looking at Akaashi’s phone on the floor.

“Who’s calling?” Akaashi gasped, still stroking himself.

“It says Koutarou?” informed Yasui.

Akaashi shook his head. “Just let it go to voicemail. Keep going.”

Yasui pulled out until the head of his cock caught on the rim of Akaashi’s asshole before thrusting back in violently. Akaashi cried out and lifted a hand up to his head, running it over his short hair. The slapping sounds of Shinji’s hips meeting Akaashi’s ass battled with the noisy squelching of the lube that was smearing inside and around his ass.

Shinji leaned over Akaashi, his thrusts shortening and getting rougher. “God, you feel so fucking good. I can feel you clenching around me and sucking me in. I want to fucking break you.”

Akaashi turned his head to the side as Shinji kissed his neck, sucking on the tender skin, nipping at it. He could feel his mind go to mush. He could feel heat growing in his abdomen.

“Do it,” he whispered, out of breath. “Break me. Break me.”

A hand around his throat; his body folded in half; harsh thrusts that rocked his body violently; nails digging into his hips.

_ BZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZ. _

Akaashi scowled. He spread his legs wider, circling his hips and crying out loudly as he felt Yasui’s cock strike his prostate. His eyes rolled back in his head as Shinji tightened his grip around his throat, using it as leverage to fuck Akaashi harder.

_ BZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZ. _

“For fucks sake,” Shinji said, stopping again and looking at the ground. “It’s that Koutarou again.”

Akaashi sighed in irritation. He slipped himself off of Shinji’s cock and stretched off the bed to grab his phone. He felt Shinji thrust himself back in, fucking Akaashin doggy-style now. Akaashi pressed his chest into a pillow and answered Bokuto’s call, breathlessly saying, “What?”

_ “How’s it going? Did you get to work today?” _

“Yeah,” Akaashi lied, holding back a groan as Shinji grabbed his balls.

_ “You sound out of breath,”  _ Bokuto pointed out.

Akaashi ground his teeth together. “I’m out for a jog right now.”

What a fucking lie. Akaashi hadn’t done voluntary exerise that wasn’t sex in over a year. He coughed loudly to cover a groan as Shinji tore his head back with a hand around his neck again.

_ “Oh! Well I’ll let you get back to it,”  _ Bokuto said quickly.  _ “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Have a good run!” _

“Yep, bye,” Akaashi said bluntly, quickly ending the call and throwing his phone back to the floor. 

“Fuck,  _ fuck _ , I’m going to cum,” Shinji moaned, pressing harder into Akaashi. He pushed Akaashi’s face into the bed.

“Not inside-” Akaashi started, but Shinji was already cumming, pressed firmly inside Akaashi’s ass. Akaashi moaned loudly as his own orgasm washed over him, feeling Shinji shudder against him as he released his load inside of him.

After catching his breath a bit, Shinji finally pulled out and Akaashi frowned uncomfortably at the feeling of his cum trickle out of his asshole. He rolled over and sat up, getting off the bed.

Shinji cupped Akaashi’s face and kissed him lightly. Akaashi kissed him back.

“You should have pulled out,” he muttered quietly.

Shinji smiled, rubbing Akaashi’s short hair, and said, “It’s fine. I don’t have any STIs or anything. I don’t get the big deal.”

Akaashi thought about it. It wasn’t really a big deal. Maybe it was okay that Shinji came inside of him. It wasn’t like he could get pregnant. And he didn’t have any good reason for not really liking it. 

He reached up, touching his hair where Shinji’s hand had just been, and said, “You’re right. It’s not really a big deal. I’m sorry.” He grabbed his clothes and excused himself to the bathroom to clean himself up. He snatched up his cellphone as he left. He had a few texts from Bokuto and from Tenma; Tenma was yet again wondering where Akaashi was.

Akaashi sat down on the toilet, pushing against his stomach. He cleaned himself off with a wet cloth and pulled his clothes back on, standing in front of the mirror as he quickly tapped out a message back to Tenma.

**_A. Keiji -_ ** _ still sick will be in on monday sorry _

And then, another text to Bokuto.

**_A. Keiji -_ ** _ you don’t have to worry about me, i’m feeling better. super busy with work rn _

Two completely different lies to cover up the fact that Akaashi was getting dicked down by the nurse who took care of him in the hospital after trying to kill himself. Nobody knew anything about him anymore. Akaashi had been spewing lie after lie about his life for over a year now. And it was far too late to start telling the truth now.


	4. MONDAY

**four.**

* * *

Monday.

Eventually, Akaashi showed up at work. He’d bought a wig to cover his shaved head and the scar that was beginning to develop from the gash in his head. He hoped the wig looked close enough to his real hair that nobody questioned him about it. The last thing he wanted was for his coworkers to question him about his absence. If he could keep the truth limited to his employer, maybe he could handle it.

It was barely 10am when Akaashi had to take his first smoke break, already starting to feel stretched thin. He grabbed his cigarettes, lighter, and his jacket, quietly leaving the office and riding the elevator down to ground level. He anxiously tugged on the wig, adjusting it and trying to check to make sure it looked alright in the reflection of the elevator doors.

On the fourth floor, the doors opened and Tenma stepped into the elevator.

“What’re you doing down here?” Akaashi asked, side-eyeing him.

Tenma lifted a cup of coffee. “They have hazelnut coffee pods down here. What are  _ you _ doing?”

Akaashi stared at the floor numbers as they ticked down. 

“Smoke break,” he said curtly. Tenma knew Akaashi smoked. It was hard to hide at the office; leaving multiple times throughout the day and returning smelling like cigarette smoke. But Akaashi hated the idea of Tenma knowing about this shameful habit of his. It just put him that much closer to knowing more about the truth of Akaashi and the life he lived outside of the office.

“Well, let me join you,” Tenma offered. “I feel like we have some things to catch up on. I haven’t seen you in ages it feels like. Did you get a haircut?”

Akaashi anxiously fiddled with the lighter in his pocket. The doors dinged and opened.

“Yes,” Akaashi lied, quickly making his way to the doors. 

“Looks good.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as they pushed through the doors and stepped away from the building a bit, Akaashi put a cigarette between his lips and cupped a hand around the flame as he lit it. He took a few puffs, listening to Tenma sip on his coffee, hissing at its heat.

“There were some rumours going around the office,” Tenma finally said. He lowered his coffee from his mouth. He looked at Akaashi, waiting for his response.

Akaashi exhaled some smoke and then said, “What about?” He could only assume from Tenma’s tone and context that the rumours were about him.

“About… where you were the last two weeks.”

Another long inhale. Akaashi wished Tenma hadn’t followed him downstairs. He didn’t say anything. If Tenma wanted to talk about the rumours, he could, but Akaashi wasn’t going to confirm or deny anything. All he wanted was to smoke, work for another two hours until lunch, smoke again, work for a few more hours, smoke, work, go home. He wasn’t here for gossip.

Tenma sighed, realizing that Akaashi wasn’t going to speak.

“It was going around the office that you’d tried killing yourself and were in the hospital,” he finally said.

Akaashi laughed darkly, flicking ash off his cigarette. “I was just sick,” he fibbed. He looked at Tenma. “You know me. What do I have to kill myself over? Rumours are just rumours. I caught the flu and ended up in the hospital for a night. That’s all.” He laughed again and repeated the words, “What do I have to kill myself over? That’s laughable.”

Tenma didn’t look completely convinced, but he let it drop. Akaashi finished his cigarette and then the two of them returned to the office and got back to work.

* * *

Yasui picked Akaashi up after work, giving him a kiss as he slid into the passenger seat of his car. Akaashi slid a hand under his shirt sleeve, feeling the raised scars and cut on his arm. He softly stroked them as he stared out the window, watched the cars beside them. As they drove, a billboard caught Akaashi’s eye.

Bokuto and Sakusa, in their MSBY uniforms. The billboard was for a new line of Nika volleyball shoes. Bokuto’s smile was wide, his eyes bright. His skin was airbrushed to hell and back. His skin tone had been lightened considerably. Akaashi scoffed, shaking his head. Just like how Bokuto’s Akaashi was dead, Akaashi’s Bokuto was also dead.

“Can I smoke?” Akaashi asked, looking over at Shinji.

“Yeah, just open the window.”

Akaashi lit up yet another cigarette. How many was that today? Seven? Eight? Maybe ten? He couldn’t remember. He opened the window, blowing the smoke outside as they drove. Even if he wanted to get back into volleyball, at this point, his lungs wouldn’t let him. 

“Hey, watch the ash,” Shinji said as Akaashi flicked some ash onto the inside of the door his arm was resting on.

Akaashi brushed it out the open window. “Sorry.” He looked at himself in the side mirror and pulled the wig off of his head. He’d never hated what he saw more in his life. The shaved hair that exposed his forehead. The light pink scarring on his jaw and cheekbone. His grey skin and even greyer eye bags. His thin, drooping face. His chapped and torn lips. And beneath his clothes, even more hideous sights to see.

“Shinji, what do you even like about me?”

Shinji looked over and broke into a smile. “You’re a good fuck. Also, you need me. Who else is going to take care of you if not me? It’s not like you have anyone else in your life who has the time to take care of you, right?”

Akaashi felt a pang in his chest at the words. He hated that Shinji was right about it. Akaashi  _ didn’t _ have anyone else in his life that cared enough to make time for him like Shinji had been doing the last two weeks. 

“Yeah,” Akaashi said quietly, dropping his cigarette onto the road. And just like he’d been hoping to that day two weeks ago, the cigarette was run over by a vehicle and it’s light disappeared.


	5. KENMA

**five.**

* * *

Kenma.

What was Kenma doing at the hospital? And why was he at this specific hospital?

Akaashi turned around quickly, leaning over the receptionist’s desk and pretending to be interested in a pamphlet about… pregnancy. He swiftly pulled his hood up above his head, hiding himself even further. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Kenma fill out a form in a chair along the wall.

“Keiji!”

Akaashi jumped in surprise and turned towards the voice. Yasui was coming towards him, smiling. Akaashi prayed that Kenma hadn’t heard him call out his name. Shinji grabbed Akaashi’s hand, squeezing it.

“Hey,” Akaashi said quietly, pulling his hand away. “Sorry if I’m distracting you from your work. I just wanted to say hi.”

“I’m a bit busy right now. Do you mind just hanging out around here for about fifteen minutes? Then we can go grab some coffee,” Shinji said.

Akaashi nodded quietly and let Yasui kiss his cheek before disappearing down the hall again. Then, Akaashi risked turning back around. Kenma handed the form to one of the receptionists and then made his way towards Akaashi.

“Hey.”

Akaashi bit down on his tongue before forcing a smile at Kenma. “Hey. Funny seeing you here.”

Kenma’s eyes were on Akaashi’s head, beneath the hood.

“I could say the same about you. Who was that?” Kenma asked.

“A friend,” Akaashi lied. God, he felt trapped.

“Close friend, huh?” Kenma’s voice was slow, low, and knowing. He was too perceptive to fall for any of Akaashi’s lies, but he also wasn’t confrontational, so he might just let it slide. “You shaved your head.”

“Yeah, trying something new.” Another useless lie. Kenma scanned his eyes over Akaashi’s face. Akaashi needed to divert the conversation away from him. He needed to gain control again.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Kenma looked at the pregnancy pamphlet still in Akaashi’s hands. Then he said, “I have to get an x-ray done. A chiropractor said my spine was fucked or something along those lines.”

“Probably from gaming so much.”

They stared at each other. The conversation was dry and fabricated. The type of awkward conversation that happened between high school friends who rarely spoke anymore. It didn’t help that Kenma was never much of a conversationalist and Akaashi had too much to hide. Could Kenma smell the cigarette smoke on him? Could he see the scars on his face?

“You know, you look a lot worse than I thought you would,” Kenma sighed, sitting down in a chair beside him.

“I look fine,” Akaashi defended. “Also, what do you mean than you thought I would? We haven’t spoken in, what? Almost a year? What could you have been expecting? It’s not like you know anything.”

Kenma’s eyes slid up to Akaashi again. “You’re right. I don’t know anything. Maybe that’s because you don’t talk to anyone anymore. I have texted you, y’know. You never answer me. I’m sure Kuroo’s tried reaching out to you. Do you even talk to Bokuto anymore?”

Akaashi scowled. “Yes, I do. I’m just really busy.”

“Really busy with the literature department, right?”

It felt like a kick to his chest. Was Kenma being sarcastic, or did he still still believe that lie Akaashi had told years ago? The lie that he’d been accepted into the literature department? Akaashi slipped a hand into his pocket, closing his fist around his cigarettes. Why couldn’t he divert the conversation away from himself?

“Yes,” he finally said. “I’m sure you understand. You’re a big shot now. You must be drowning in work. Are you still sponsoring Hinata?”

He had to get away.

“I am,” Kenma answered. “What are you working on right now?”

“I can’t tell you that; not until it’s been released to the public anyways.”

He couldn’t breathe. Kenma had a foot on his throat, pressing him into the ground, forcing him against a wall.

“Ah, I see. It must be hard, keeping everything a secret, huh?”

Akaashi’s vision tunnelled. Was he reading too much into the meaning of Kenma’s words? Did Kenma know something was up with him? Or was he genuinely just referring to his work? What did Kenma know? What was his end goal? To push Akaashi to the edge of the cliff and then poke a finger to his chest so that he was sent plummeting downwards?

“It is,” Akaashi said, clenching his jaw. “I have to go. It was nice catching up with you. I’ll try to respond to your texts more.” 

And then he was leaving the hospital, walking down the sidewalk. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew that he needed to get away. Out of habit, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, sucking on it harshly, trying to calm his nerves. His head was pounding.

The cars driving past on the road sounded loud in his ears. It sounded just the same as the day he flung himself in front of the truck. He wasn’t going to try that again. It wasn’t efficient. He needed something more finalizing. Something that got the job done. A handful of Xanax and a bottle of Brandy or Whiskey or Scotch or something would do the trick.

Akaashi stopped at a bench, dropped down, and put his head in his hands, cigarette still burning. Why did he have to run into Kenma? Why did he have to run into Kenma  _ right now _ ? Why did he have to run into someone he knew so soon after failing to kill himself?

_ Why was he still alive? _


	6. BRUISES

**six.**

* * *

Bruises.

The bruises he’d received from jumping in front of the truck were finally completely gone four weeks after his suicide attempt. His hair was slowly starting to grow back, but it was still short. He hadn’t cut himself since then either, and most of his cuts had healed over and were pinkish scars now.

Akaashi had been staying at Shinji’s place for the past few days. Over the weekend, he swallowed Xanax after Xanax, laying on the sofa like a pile of laundry. He didn’t move the entire weekend, only getting up for the occasional snack or to go to the bathroom. On Monday, he sobered up with some Adderall before heading to work.

Around noon, he noticed he’d received a text from Kenma.

**_K. Kenma -_ ** _ Would you like to meet up for dinner tonight? _

Akaashi blinked. That was the very  _ last _ thing he wanted. He walked up and down the sidewalk, smoking his cigarette and staring at his text messages. He couldn’t keep ignoring everyone forever, not now that they were onto him and his lies. He was just lucky that Bokuto was so busy that they couldn’t meet up regularly. Akaashi knew that for sure if he were to see Bokuto, Bokuto would immediately be able to see through him and tell something was wrong.

**_A. Keiji -_ ** _ Sure. Might have to be a little bit of a later dinner though. Is 7 okay? _

**_K. Kenma -_ ** _ That’s fine. I’ll text you the address  _

He could handle one dinner. 

The rest of the work day went by slowly and agonizingly as Akaashi felt the hours tick down until he had to slip back into the skin that was high school Akaashi. He hated putting that skin on. It made him feel itchy, suffocated, and agitated. Just returning to his old self put him in a bad mood for days.

But if that was what it took to keep Kenma at an arm's distance away from getting to know this  _ new _ him, then he could deal with a bad mood for a few days. Hell, he’d been dealing with a bad mood for years now, what was a few days?

* * *

“Yasui? Are you home?” Akaashi called, pushing open the door.

The apartment was dark and quiet; Shinji must not have been home yet. Akaashi put his things on the couch and then collapsed beside them, looking up at the water stained ceiling tiles. Something felt wrong, but he couldn’t identify it. It couldn’t have been loneliness; Akaashi had felt that before, he’d felt it constantly. It wasn’t self loathing; Akaashi would be drinking or smoking or cutting if that was what it was. Surely it wasn’t anxiety; the anxiety Akaashi had grown accustomed to was a mere, steady thrum that constantly ran through his head.

Tiredness. Nausea. Fear. A bad taste in his mouth as he laid alone in the dark apartment, waiting for the one person who knew who he was anymore. When had he become such a kicked down mutt?

“Ah…” Akaashi said quietly, closing his eyes as laughter bubbled up in his chest, shaking his body like an electrical jolt. “Happy face now, Keiji, then everything will be okay.” His lips split into a tired smile; lazy, not reaching past the movement of his lips. He laughed harder, feeling ridiculous. “Who the fuck even cares!” he cried, raising his hands towards the ceiling, staring up at them.

After a few more minutes of laughing at himself, Akaashi got to his feet and shed his jacket to the floor, going to the bathroom to tidy himself up before his dinner with Kenma. Akaashi stared at his ugly form in the mirror, blinking slowly.

Should he tell Shinji? Tell him that he was having dinner with another man? Akaashi wasn’t even sure if Shinji and him were even exclusive or not. He figured they were. And Kenma was just a friend. A friend that Shinji didn’t even know about, frankly.

Akaashi brushed his teeth and tried to scrub the cigarette smell off of his skin. He brushed through his hair, debating putting the wig on or not. But Kenma had seen his shaved head already, if he showed up with a wig that would only raise questions. He changed into some of Shinji’s clothes - blue jeans, a white button-up, and a long-sleeve burgundy cardigan.

He admired the hickey on his neck in the mirror.

“Keiji!”

Akaashi jumped and spun towards the bedroom door as Shinji appeared, still in his scrubs. He swept his eyes up and down Akaashi’s body then said, “What are you doing? Take those off.”

“Oh, I was going out for dinner with a friend-”

“Wear your own clothes. I like those ones,” Shinji demanded.

Akaashi frowned but began stripping off the clothes and picking up his dirty, smoke filled work clothes.

“I don’t have any other clothes here. Just my work clothes.”

Shinji undressed as well and then put on the clothes Akaashi had just removed.

Akaashi waited until he was dressed and then asked, “Can I borrow some other clothes? Just for tonight. I’ll wash and fold them for you afterwards.”

They stared at each other silently for a few seconds, unmoving. Akaashi awkwardly waited for an answer. Finally, Shinji moved towards his wardrobe and pulled out a pair of sweats and a faded t-shirt, handing them to Akaashi.

“Oh… I was hoping for something a little bit… nicer,” Akaashi said.

“I thought you were just meeting up with a friend? Are you trying to seduce them?” Shinji questioned, narrowing his eyes.

Akaashi turned away, pulling on the clothes slowly. “No,” he mumbled. “But I haven’t seen him for a while so I’d like to look a little bit more put together. Also my arms are exposed in a t-shirt.”

“Well whose fault is it for cutting them up, huh?”

Akaashi glanced at Shinji, hugging his arms to his body. “Why’re you being such an asshole?” he grumbled, turning towards the door. 

Before he got out of reach, Shinji jerked him backwards by the back of his shirt then threw him forwards to the floor violently. Akaashi crashed to his knees in surprise, pain jolting up his wrist and throughout his hand as he caught himself from face planting. 

“What the fuck-” he started angrily before being cut off by a foot being planted between his shoulder blades roughly.

Akaashi pushed Shinji away, getting to his feet and taking a few steps back, glaring at him and cradling his wrist.

“I’m so sorry,” Shinji said, eyes widening. “I didn’t mean to be that rough. It’s just been such a long day at work and I’m exhausted. Are you okay? Here, here, you can wear my cardigan to cover your arms. Let me get you a wrist brace. Shit, I’m so sorry, Keiji, I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Akaashi felt his glare soften as Shinji draped his cardigan over his shoulders. He sighed as he slid his arms into the sleeves while Shinji went to get a wrist brace. Shinji slowly slid the brace onto Akaashi’s wrist, tightening it and then kissing Akaashi’s knuckles.

“Do you need some money? Let me drive you, that way you don’t have to take the bus. Do you have the address?”

Akaashi brushed a hand through his hair and looked down at his faded t-shirt, sweatpants, and wrist brace. He sighed heavily then gave in, accepting Yasui’s offer of a ride and money, trying to forget what had just happened.

That feeling; Akaashi could identify it now. 

Succumbing; surrendering; submission. Too tired to fight anymore. Just quietly sinking back into his defeat against the world. 


	7. BOKUTO

**seven.**

* * *

Bokuto.

Akaashi blinked, staring at the text message.

Bokuto was on break, and he wanted to see Akaashi. He wanted to meet up, maybe crash at Akaashi’s place for a bit before he had to go back to work. Nearly two months had passed since Akaashi tried to kill himself. Still nobody knew about it, aside from Yasui. His hair had grown back enough that it just looked like he got a bad haircut and the hairdresser went too short. The cuts and scrapes he’d had on his shoulder and face were almost completely gone. Akaashi was glad that the remains of his failure were gone.

Although now he had another problem.

The wrist brace that never seemed to come off. The bruises on his arms and chest. The rug burn on his knees. They were easy enough to make excuses for, but if they didn’t have time to heal, that would pose other concerns for people.

“Hey, Tenma,” Akaashi said, popping his head up over Tenma’s cubicle.

“Hm?” he hummed, eyes glued to his computer screen.

“Do you think Bokuto could stay at your place for a bit? He’s coming to town for a few days and he needs somewhere to stay.”

“Why isn’t he staying with you?” Tenma asked, finally looking at Akaashi.

Akaashi looked down quickly at Tenma’s work, minding racing to find an excuse. “Ah, my apartment is getting renovated right now. The landlord is making some changes to the units,” he lied, hoping Tenma left it at that. “Bokuto can just stay in a hotel too, he has the money.”

“Where are you staying right now?” Tenma queried, frowning. “Your landlord better be paying to have you put up in a hotel until the renovations are done.”

“He is.”

How many more lies could Akaashi tell before they started tangling together and tripping him up? It didn’t seem that the truth ever left his lips these days. Everything was fabricated and falsified, even when he had no reason to lie about something.

“I’ll just text Bokuto to get a hotel,” Akaashi said, waving his hand. He said goodbye to Tenma and returned to his own cubicle, sitting down and looking at his phone on his desk. His wrist was throbbing quietly underneath the brace.

**_A. Keiji -_ ** _ Sorry, you won’t be able to stay at my place. Landlord is doing renovations, so all the tenants are out of the building until they’re done _

**_B. Koutarou -_ ** _ Let’s share a hotel room then! It’ll be just like tournaments or training camps in high school :D _

Akaashi’s vision tunnelled. He swallowed, closing his eyes tightly and grinding his teeth together. Why couldn’t Bokuto catch the hint?

**_A. Keiji -_ ** _ That’s okay, landlord is already paying for a hotel room for me and the other tenants. I’ll pick you up from the airport if you want, though _

**_B. Koutarou -_ ** _ My flight comes in at 4pm this afternoon! _

Akaashi slid a hand under his shirt sleeve, digging his nails into his arm. Bokuto hadn’t mentioned anything about coming in  _ that day _ . Akaashi thought he had at least a few days before he would have to face Bokuto. Shinji was supposed to be picking him up after work. Akaashi couldn’t have Shinji take him to pick up Bokuto.

Akaashi told Shinji he’d gotten caught up at work and would just take the bus home whenever he finished. Akaashi told his boss that something had come up and he had to leave work early; he would accept the pay deduction for his missed work. Akaashi told Tenma there was a problem with the pipes in his apartment and he had to go home to fetch his things before they all got water logged. Akaashi told Bokuto he would be at the airport to get him right away.

In his work clothes, with his briefcase, smelling of cigarette smoke, Akaashi got on the bus and made his way to the airport. He approached the arrivals and chewed on his lip as he searched for Bokuto’s head among the people. Would Bokuto notice the cigarette smell? Would he notice Akaashi’s hair was shorter? Would he notice the wrist brace? Would he notice the weight loss? Would he notice the hickeys on his neck?

“Keiji! Keiji!”

Akaashi whipped his head around, finally seeing Bokuto approaching him, dragging a suitcase, carrying a duffle bag, and with a neck pillow resting on his shoulders. Before Akaashi could stop him, he opened his arms wide and pulled Akaashi into a tight hug.

“Have you been smoking?” Bokuto asked, sniffing aggressively.

Akaashi felt himself tense up and he pushed Bokuto away. “Yeah, it’s… It’s a habit I picked up at work. A lot of the guys smoke. Sorry, I didn’t have time to change out of my clothes and get rid of the smell before coming to get you.”

Bokuto noticed the cigarette smell.

“I don’t have a hotel room yet, do you mind if we just go back to the place you’re staying until I can get one?”

Akaashi felt his mouth dry up. He adjusted his hold on his briefcase, thoughts rushing as he tried to think of a way to get around this. Finally, he simply said, “No.”

“Oh,” Bokuto said, surprised at the answer.

“It’s because I-” Akaashi felt nauseous. “I lied. I’m not at a hotel. I’m at a friend’s house for now.” 

Would it be safer to break the whole lie and take Bokuto back home to his apartment? Or would it be safer to take Bokuto to Shinji’s? On one hand, if Bokuto saw that Akaashi’s apartment wasn’t under renovation, he would know that Akaashi was hiding something. Also, Akaashi’s apartment had beer bottles, cigarettes, and drugs scattered all throughout it. He couldn’t take him to his place. But if he took him to Shinji’s, then Shinji would be angry that Akaashi kept Bokuto’s visit a secret, and that he had lied so that he could pick him up.

“We can go to his place,” Akaashi finally decided, forcing a smile. 


	8. JEALOUSY

**eight.**

* * *

Jealousy.

Maybe a hint of anger, maybe suspicion. Akaashi could feel Shinji’s eyes burning into his soul as they sat in the living room. Bokuto had gone to the bathroom to clean up a little bit after his long flight.

“You never told me you were close with a famous volleyball player.”

“I’m not,” Akaashi said. This time, he wasn’t sure if he was lying or not. “We went to high school together and played together then, but that’s pretty much it. He’s just in town and thought it would be good to catch up. That’s all, I promise.”

Shinji got off the couch and went around towards the kitchen. As he passed, he grabbed a handful of Akaashi’s hair in a fist, pulling his head backwards. Akaashi grimaced, reaching up to try to pry Shinji’s fingers out of his hair. He tried pushing up into Shinji’s hand, trying to lessen the pull.

“Shinji, stop,” Akaashi said quietly. “We have a guest right now.”

Shinji shoved Akaashi’s head forward, letting go. As he walked to the kitchen, he grumbled, “Yeah, your fucking side piece. Fucking whore.”

Akaashi fixed his hair up, blinking rapidly. He heard the bathroom door open and Bokuto came from down the hall. 

“What’d you do to your wrist?” Bokuto asked, nodding towards the wrist brace.

Akaashi felt a shock run down his spine, stopping his movements abruptly. “Oh, I tripped on a sidewalk curb the other day, it’s nothing, really,” he said carefully, throat beginning to feel tight. Bokuto needed to leave. “Have you found a hotel room yet? I’m sure it’s not hard for you. All you have to do is drop your name and people will hand a room over to you.”

“I’m not _that_ big,” Bokuto laughed. “But, yeah, I got a room. I can check-in at seven.”

“Oh, well, you should go then,” Akaashi said, getting to his feet. “I’m sure you’re tired from your flight. And you probably have really bad jet lag. Here, let me walk you out.”

* * *

 **_K. Tetsurou -_ ** _I hear Bokuto’s in town. You and him wanna meet up with Kenma and I to catch up?_

 **_A. Keiji -_ ** _I don’t know, I’m super busy_

 **_K. Tetsurou -_ ** _Even tomorrow?_

Akaashi turned his head to the side, looking at Shinji, deep in sleep. Shinji was on call on Saturday, so he would be around, unless he got called in. He knew Akaashi didn’t have work.

 **_A. Keiji -_ ** _I’ll try to find some time. I’ll let you know tomorrow_

Akaashi plugged his phone in and slid it under his pillow. He had to only assume that Kenma had told Kuroo about their dinner the other week. He had to assume that Kenma had told Kuroo about the wrist brace and about his shaved head. He only had to assume Kenma had told Kuroo that Akaashi had chugged down so much alcohol during their dinner, leaving the restaurant drunk and flushed. He had to assume that Kenma had voiced his concerns to Kuroo.

After a few minutes of lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, Akaashi quietly got out, grabbed his phone and other belongings, and then quietly left the apartment. He called a cab to drive him back to his own apartment, feeling his anxiety rise the farther he got from Shinji, knowing that he would be furious when he woke up to find that Akaashi had left without notice or explanation.


	9. GHOST

**nine.**

* * *

A ghost.

That’s what Akaashi felt like, walking slightly behind the other three down the street. Or perhaps a shadow would be a better metaphor for how he felt. But shadows were remnants of living beings, ghosts were the shadows of the dead and Akaashi didn’t think he quite qualified as being ‘alive’ anymore. 

He’d only agreed to meet up with Kenma, Kuroo, and Bokuto merely so that he wouldn’t be alone at home, anxiously waiting for an angry Shinji to show up. Maybe a small part of him wanted to tell one of them, if not all three, what had really been going on since- well, since high school. A small part of him agreed to hang out so that he might be able to find the opportune moment to drop the many bombshells that had already blown his own life to smithereens.

Akaashi lifted his face to the sky, tiredly looking at the blazing sun above. He could feel sweat on his neck and under his arms. He could smell himself. Not necessarily a bad smell, but not a good one either. Just the smell of someone sweating under the hot sun. He was the only one sweating.

Everyone else had dressed appropriately. Bokuto was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Kenma was wearing an oversized t-shirt with a thin jacket and sweats. Kuroo was wearing joggers and a sports-brand, thin long sleeve shirt. Akaashi was dressed in the only pair of jeans he owned - a faded pair of black jeans, the cuffs around the ankles were frayed and damaged. He had a long sleeve shirt underneath his oversized, thick blue sweater.

He should have taken his sweater off hours ago, before he’d started sweating so much. Now he feared he had pit-stains and back sweat. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

Akaashi looked at Kenma, trying to blink away the sunspots in his eyes. “What?”

Kenma shrugged, pulling away from Kuroo and falling into step beside Akaashi. “I just mean… You’ve been acting weird. Not like… yourself. I noticed it when we had dinner the other night too. What’s wrong?”

Akaashi’s vision tunnelled and his mouth dried, his heart slamming against his ribcage. Now was the opportune moment. Now was the perfect time to say  _ something _ . Kenma wanted to  _ know _ . Someone was worried. Someone was curious; concerned. 

_ Say something, you fucking idiot. _

“Oh, I guess I’ve just changed since high school,” Akaashi choked out, wiping sweat off his neck again.

“Maybe…” Kenma said, unsure. “I can’t help but think there’s something wrong, though. You seem… sad.”

The silence weighed on Akaashi’s shoulders as they walked. Kuroo and Bokuto were a good few feet ahead of them now, but were off in their own world, talking loudly.

Finally, Akaashi quietly said, “I am.”

Even though his eyes were locked on the pavement below his feet, Akaashi could feel Kenma look at him. He could sense that Kenma wasn’t surprised, that although he didn’t know how to help, he wanted to at least know what was going on.

Akaashi flinched as his phone suddenly rang loudly in his pocket, breaking the suffocating air that surrounded the two. Kenma finally looked away and Akaashi pulled out his phone, looking at the screen.

“Ah, it’s Shin- it’s a friend. Sorry, one second,” Akaashi said, quickly answering the call.

_ “Are you fucking around with me?! Are you kidding me right now, Keiji?! Do you know how fucking scared I was when I woke up? When I couldn’t find you I thought you’d gone off and thrown yourself in front of another truck! What the hell is wrong with you?” _

Akaashi swallowed thickly, eyes anxiously flicking towards Kenma. If he was able to hear what Shinji was saying, he didn’t give any indication of it.

“I’m sorry,” was all Akaashi could say, his voice weak. “Can I call you-”

_ “If I knew you were going to be a fucking flight-risk I’d have done a bit more to keep you from running off by yourself in the middle of the night,”  _ Shinji cursed, voice dripping with lava.  _ “Where the hell are you? I’m coming to pick you up.” _

“I’m at the dentist,” Akaashi lied, grimacing subtly. “I’ll call you when I’m done. I promise. You can come pick me up. I have to go, though, they’re calling me in.”

There was dead air on the line, and then nothing as Shinji abruptly hung up. Akaashi listened to the emptiness for a few more seconds before ending the call on his end as well. He fanned his face with a hand, hoping his now splotchy cheeks and watery eyes could be passed off from being in the sun for so long. 

Kenma sighed heavily. “Come on, let’s catch up to the other two.”

* * *

Eight more calls. On the fifth call, Akaashi silenced his phone, embarrassed. On the eighth call, Bokuto caught sight of the name that lit up the screen. He pointed his fork at Akaashi’s phone on the table and said, “Isn’t that your friend? The one you’re staying with while your apartment is being renovated?”

Akaashi flipped over his phone, ignoring the call again. “Yeah. It’s fine. I’ll call him back later.”

“Maybe it’s important. He’s tried calling a few times now, hasn’t he?” Kuroo asked, eyeing Akaashi. “Maybe you should call him back.”

“Why?” Kenma interrupted, stabbing a shrimp amongst his spaghetti. “We’re eating right now. And how often do we get to see each other anyways? I’m sure Akaashi’s friend can wait. Just text him. Nobody calls anymore anyways.”

Akaashi felt his shoulders relax at Kenma’s very ‘Kenma-esque’ save.

But then he opened up his text messages and immediately all the tension had returned. Nearly a hundred text messages from Shinji. Long, ranting paragraphs. Swearing at Akaashi. Akaashi tilted his phone away from Kenma, hoping no one saw the massive blocks of text. A quick text message to Shinji.

**_A. Keiji -_ ** _ No need to pick me up. I’ll be home soon. _

Immediately:

**_Y. Shinji -_ ** _ You’re with Bokuto, aren’t you? _

**_A. Keiji -_ ** _ I just met up with him after my appointment for a meal, really, that’s all _

**_A. Keiji -_ ** _ I promise _

**_Y. Shinji -_ ** _ I’m surprised you’re able to eat so soon after the dentists _

Ice ran down Akaashi’s body. He quickly turned off his phone and slid it under his thigh, trying to keep his breathing even. Despite the shiver that threatened to rock his body, Akaashi felt flushed with heat, almost on the verge of fainting; nauseous. The little bit of food that he’d just eaten threatened to reappear.

“I have to go,” Akaashi blurted, standing up and grabbing his things. “It was important. What my friend was trying to get a hold of me about, I mean. I’ll pay for my food up front. It was nice seeing you guys. Hopefully we can do this again.”

The three of them looked at him, surprised at the abruptness.

“Oh- Okay,” Bokuto said, clearly confused. “Don’t worry about paying if you’re in a rush. I can take care of it. I’ll call you later?”

Akaashi felt a javelin of fear shoot through his chest and before he could stop himself, he heard himself say, “No. Please, don’t call me.”


	10. SILENCE

**ten.**

* * *

Silence.

Akaashi quietly shut the door behind him, alert and listening for Shinji. The only sounds he could hear was from himself, the rustling of fabric as he tugged off his shoes and crept further into the apartment. 

“Oh!” he cried out, jumping in surprise as he turned the corner and nearly ran into Shinji, standing in the kitchen. “How has your day-”

_ KKLAP. _

Akaashi’s head snapped to the side as the back of Shinji’s hand met his cheek harshly. Akaashi let out a violent gasp, hands flying up to cup his face. He felt something slide between his fingertips and he pulled his hand back. Bright blood was staining his fingers. He touched his cheekbone lightly with his clean hand and blood coated those fingertips as well. 

“Your ring-”

“Shut the hell up,” Shinji snapped. “I don’t want to hear your grating voice right now. Tell me where the fuck you were all day ‘cause I sure as hell know you weren’t at the dentist.”

Akaashi swallowed then softly said, “I was out with some friends. We haven’t seen each other in ages so they wanted to get together.”

“You were with Bokuto.” It wasn’t necessarily a question.

Akaashi silently nodded, avoiding Shinji’s gaze. He flinched when Shinji grabbed his bicep, yanking him down the hall roughly. He was kicked into the bedroom and Shinji slammed the door behind them. Akaashi quickly spun around to face him, holding his hands up in front of him, palms pointed towards Shinji.

“Just listen to me for a second, Shinji, please,” Akaashi begged, feeling cornered. He could feel his castle of lies starting to crumble down around him. The walls were starting to give up under the pressure. “We just went out for some cheap food, just walked around and window shopped. That’s all, I swear. There’s  _ nothing _ between Bokuto and I. There never has been.”

His heart tore in half, blood pooling in his chest and pressing against his lungs, threatening to suffocate him.

“What a fucking load of bullshit. Give me your phone. I’ll see for myself,” Shinji demanded, holding a hand out.

Akaashi hesitated. The silence between them screamed in his ears. Shinji exhaled angrily and stepped towards Akaashi, grabbing his wrists swiftly and shoving him onto the bed. Akaashi bounced down onto the mattress, struggling against Shinji on top of him. He pressed one hand against Akaashi’s throat and the other one tugged at his clothes, pulling, digging in his pockets for his cellphone.

“Shinji-”

“Shut up,” Shinji growled, tightening his grip until he finally located Akaashi’s phone. He sat back, still straddling Akaashi’s hips. “Tell me your passcode.”

“No,” Akaashi coughed, glaring up at Shinji.

_ KKLAP. _

Akaashi squeezed his eyes shut at the fresh stinging as Shinji slapped him again. “Tell me your fucking passcode.”

“ _ No _ ,” Akaashi said through gritted teeth.

Shinji grabbed a handful of Akaashi’s hair, pressing down into the bed and leaning in close to his face. “I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me your goddamn passcode,” he hissed.

Akaashi closed his eyes again, turning to turn his face away from Shinji’s, his hair pulling agonizingly. His body shook with tension.

And then he shoved the heel of his palm upwards, catching the edge of Shinji’s jaw and sending him reeling backwards. He wriggled his way out from underneath Shinji and fell to the ground, his head spinning dizzily as he struggled to get to his feet. Shinji whipped Akaashi’s phone towards the wall and it loudly crashed into the side table lamp, sending it shattering to the floor.

“You fucking bitch,” he bit, getting off the bed. Blood was smearing over his lips, making him look like something out of a horror film. 

Akaashi crawled away from Shinji, towards the door, trying to get his feet underneath his body. His breath was knocked out of him as something crashed into his back and sent him colliding with the door. He dropped to the floor limply, his back screaming in agony. He wheezed, trying to gather a breath.

The desk chair that Shinji had swung at Akaashi clattered to the ground.

“Stop, please, Shinji, please stop,” Akaashi gasped. Tears were starting to pool in his eyes. Fear was starting to pool in his lungs. He cried out again as he was flung away from the door like a rag doll. The room seemed darker. The broken lamp changed the whole ambiance.

Shinji pressed one foot on Akaashi’s wrist, the other one planted in the centre of his chest. He spit blood down onto Akaashi’s face before speaking again.

“I gave you three chances. I think that was generous enough. Your reluctance gave me the answer I wanted anyways. You’re a fucking cum slut. I bet that Koutarou splits you open and touches all the places you could ever wish to be touched, huh?”

“No,” Akaashi groaned. “It’s not what you think, please, I’m telling the truth. I just wanted-” Akaashi’s eyes fluttered shut and he whispered, “I just wanted to see if I could be happy like I used to be.”

Shinji rolled his eyes and stepped back, kicking a foot into Akaashi’s side violently. “You’re fucking pathetic. How could they make you happy? What could you possibly have expected? Nobody likes you, Keiji. I’m the only person you have anymore. You know that, I know that.” He paused, staring down at Akaashi. “Let’s have sex. You look hot right now.”

Akaashi lifted a hand to cover his face as it broke, tears sneaking out from his closed eyes. His body shook as he silently cried, too tired to fight back against Shinji anymore. His body hurt. His ears were ringing. He could barely breathe. 

“Come on, lets have sex,” Shinji said again, nudging Akaashi with a toe.

“I don’t want to,” Akaashi croaked. “Please, just leave me alone. I want to go home.”

“As if you’re going home on the bus looking like that,” Shinji scoffed. And then, under his breath as he left the bedroom, he muttered, “As if I’m going to let you go home now, anyways.”

The door shut behind Shinji as he left and Akaashi dropped his arms to his sides.

Silence, again. It was over, and all that was left was peaceful silence and Akaashi’s ragged breathing.


	11. POINT FIVE

**ten point five.**

* * *

“Should we go check on Akaashi?” Bokuto asked worriedly as they exited the restaurant. He looked behind himself at Kenma, searching for his opinion.

“What are you looking at me for?” Kenma said, giving Bokuto an annoyed look. He sighed then said, “I don’t know any more than you. I caught him at the hospital one day and he’d shaved his head. He had scars on his face. He reeked of cigarette smoke. Also, he was jumpy and defensive. And then we had dinner and he got pretty drunk. That’s as much as I know.”

“So what you’re saying is that there’s obviously something going on,” Kuroo clarified for Kenma. 

Kenma tilted his ear towards his shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Well he’s  _ clearly  _ hiding something. Also…” Kenma hesitated, twisting his lips. A couple pushed past the three of them on the sidewalk. “Earlier, he got a call from that, uh, Shinji and it sounded like he was yelling at Akaashi. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Akaashi lied to him about his whereabouts. He said he was at the dentist.”

Kuroo huffed and shook his head. “As if that isn’t suspicious.”

Bokuto looked between the two and then asked again, “Should we go check on him?”

“Yeah, do you remember the address of where he said he’s staying while his apartment is getting renovated?” Kuroo asked expectantly. 

Bokuto blinked. He deflated, wishing he had thought to pay attention to where they were when Akaashi picked him up from the airport. “No. Maybe we can ask Tenma, he should know. They spend five days of the week together so surely he’ll know a bit more than we do.”

Standing on the sidewalk, out of the way, Bokuto rang up Tenma while Kuroo and Kenma tried Akaashi’s cell phone.

_"_ _ Hello?” _

“Hey, Tenma, do you know the address where Akaashi’s staying at?” Bokuto wondered.

_ “He’s at a hotel, I think. He never said which one. Why are you calling me instead of him for this information?” _

Bokuto thought back to Akaashi’s words. _ Please, don’t call me. _ A nauseating fist twisted his gut and suddenly something felt very, very wrong.

“He’s not at a hotel,” Bokuto said, remembering how Akaashi had lied to him about staying at a hotel as well. “He’s staying with a friend. He took me there when he picked me up from the airport.”

_ “Picked you up from the…? He said he had to leave early on Friday because a water pipe had burst in his place,”  _ Tenma said.  _ “Hang on, I have his home address around here somewhere. I have a pretty good feeling his place isn’t being renovated.” _

Bokuto listened anxiously as Tenma searched for Akaashi’s home address. Finally, Tenma said he’d sent the address to Bokuto as a text. Bokuto thanked him and hung up, opening up the text.

“We tried calling him,” Kuroo said, shaking his head. “He’s not picking up for either of us. Did you get the address?”

“I got his home address. Tenma said he thinks Akaashi was lying about his apartment being reno-ed. Come on, I’ll call an  _ Uber _ .”

In the vehicle, all three of them tried calling Akaashi again, but to no avail. Bokuto anxiously chewed on a fingernail, beginning to wonder what else Akaashi had been hiding from them - from everybody. Maybe Akaashi had simply gone home; maybe he was okay and was at home having a bath. Maybe he was napping. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t picking up his phone.

The apartment complex didn’t have a passcode to enter the building. As the three of them crowded into the tiny, dark, rickety elevator to go to the unit Tenma had given them, a heavy cloak was starting to settle over their shoulders.

“Something smells,” Kenma muttered, scrunching his nose up. He cupped his hands around his mouth and nose.

“Yeah, this place doesn’t look very…” Kuroo trailed off as the door opened and they were met with a dimly lit hallway, the walls water stained. “...safe.”

“What’s Keiji doing living in a place like this?” Bokuto said. “Surely he could afford something nicer.”

They followed the doors down the hall until they approached the unit labelled 323. Bokuto knocked loudly, praying that Akaashi would be behind the door. 

But there was no response. He knocked again, and then tried the door handle. He was surprised to find it unlocked and he pushed into the apartment.

When they stepped through the threshold, they stopped, all three of them trying to take in the mess that they were seeing. Beer bottles scattered all over, a package of cigarettes on the counter and another on the coffee table, next to an ashtray full of ash. There was a garbage bag tied off and leaning against the wall. There were dishes piled up in the sink.

“Jesus,” Kuroo said quietly, pulling Kenma closer to his body and away from the stained wall. 

Bokuto stepped further into the apartment, looking around. He picked up an orange pill bottle that was sitting on the coffee table beside a half empty bottle of vodka. He looked at the label, popped off the top, and spilled some tablets onto his hand.

“Xanax?” he mumbled. Kenma came up next to him, looking at the pills as well. “This has to be the wrong apartment. Akaashi would never do any of… this,” he said, shaking his head.

Kenma shook his head and silently lifted up a pile of papers, showing them to Bokuto. Bokuto took them, looking at the name at the top of the papers.

Hospital bills for one Akaashi Keiji.

“When was he in the hospital? For what?” Bokuto whispered, trying to make sense of the jargon on the paper, trying to figure out  _ why _ Akaashi had been in the hospital.

In the fridge, they found more alcohol. More alcohol than food. They found more drugs in a kitchen drawer. They found bloodied bandages in the bathroom garbage. Kenma tried Akaashi again, and then again, as the situation started to grow worse and worse as a sickening feeling settled in each of their stomachs.

“I don’t know who he is anymore,” Bokuto said, astonished, as he opened a bedside table and found lube, a vibrator, and a fleshlight. “How are we supposed to figure out where he is when we clearly don’t know a single thing about him? Should we call Tenma again?”

“Akaashi’s phone has stopped ringing,” Kenma informed them, lowering his cellphone. “It just goes straight to voicemail. Maybe he turned it off.” 

Bokuto closed his eyes, scowling as he fought off the rising flow of anxiety.

“Alright, well, there’s nothing else we can do,” Kuroo said evenly. “We can keep calling, but right now, we have no idea where he is. He’ll have to show up to work on Monday. And if he doesn’t, we can file a missing persons report, that is, if we don’t get a hold of him by then.”

It was the longest 36 hours of Bokuto’s entire life waiting for Monday morning to arrive.


	12. FINALLY

**eleven.**

* * *

Finally.

Finally, Shinji went to work on Monday. Akaashi called in sick to work, grabbed his things, and limped out to the street to grab a taxi to take him home. The driver caught sight of Akaashi’s battered face and asked if he was okay.

For once, Akaashi didn’t lie. He shook his head and feebly said, “Please, just take me to that address.”

In the cab, Akaashi looked at his phone for the first time since Shinji had forcibly taken it out of his possession. The screen was shattered, but it still turned on fine. It was very nearly dead, but Akaashi could see the dozens of calls that he’d received from Bokuto, Kenma, Kuroo, and Tenma. His stomach churned as he worried over the fact that Shinji had probably seen the calls from Bokuto.

When it came for Akaashi to pay for the cab ride, he realized his cards weren’t in his wallet, nor was there any cash. He closed his eyes and inhaled shakily.

“I’m sorry I- I don’t have any money,” he said. He dug into his pockets, hoping maybe Shinji hadn’t taken his money and he’d just put his card into his pocket and forgotten. He came up empty. “I can get you money. Just- I have to go up to my apartment.”

The driver looked at Akaashi, chewing on his lip. Then he said, “Don’t worry about it, kid.” He reached into the glove compartment on the passenger’s side and pulled out a credit card, tapping it to the payment terminal. “This ride is on me. You just take care of yourself, and maybe consider going to a hospital.”

Akaashi lowered his head, thanking the driver, before sliding out of the vehicle and shuffling his way into the complex. When he got to his unit, he slowly lowered himself onto the sofa, unable to even make it a few more steps to his bed. 

He laid down, curled up, and began to cry. 

About an hour had passed when he heard the front door open and he jumped in surprise. Fear spread over his chest and he sat up quickly, expecting to see Shinji enter.

Instead, he saw Kuroo. 

“Akaashi-” Kuroo started, shocked.

That was all it took for Akaashi to break. He leaned his head back, tears streaming down his face and snot choking him. He hiccupped painfully as sobs shook his body. Kuroo closed the door quietly and stepped towards Akaashi, kneeling down.

“Hey… Things aren’t too good, huh?” Kuroo said quietly. He pulled out his phone and Akaashi heard him say, “Bo, Akaashi’s at his apartment.”

“No…” Akaashi groaned. “I can’t see him. Please, I can’t let him see me like this.” He lowered his head, pressing a hand to his mouth. His tears were stinging the angry cut on his cheek. His tightened facial muscles made his bruised jaw and black eye ache agonizingly. His split lip tugged painfully. 

“I’m going to tell Bokuto to bring a med-kit,” Kuroo said, his voice still soft. “Did Shinji do this to you?”

Akaashi closed his eyes and whispered, “No. It was an accident.”

Kuroo inhaled deeply. “You can’t keep lying like this, ‘Kaashi. What’s your relationship to him?”

Akaashi cradled his head, bruised and scabbed hands shaking. “We’re dating,” he finally said. “I was in the hospital. He was my nurse. He took care of me. He still takes care of me.”

“This is how he takes care of you?”

Akaashi choked on a new wave of tears, gasping. “It’s not like that. It’s not. He just got jealous when- when Bokuto came into town and I met up with you guys. It’s not what you think it’s like.”

Kuroo shifted his position on the ground, keeping his voice levelled as he asked, “But he is the one who bruised and cut you like this, right? Regardless of why he did it, he’s the one that did this?”

And Akaashi nodded mutely, throat constricting and suffocating him as he listened to Kuroo’s familiar voice question him. The voice that used to piss him off endlessly when they were in high school. The same presence that made him feel small and inferior, yet strangely safe.

“Okay,” Kuroo said quietly. He got to his feet. “We can tease out the details of… all of this later. Let’s just get you patched up a bit and then we’ll see what to do from there.”

Akaashi swallowed thickly and reached for the cigarettes in front of him, grabbing one and lighting it shakily. Kuroo didn’t say anything about it. While Kuroo wasn’t looking, Akaashi tossed a Xanax down his throat, leaning back into the couch and letting his tears dry out on his face.

He was done with the cigarette by the time Bokuto and Kenma arrived. Akaashi expected Bokuto to try to engulf him in a hug, but nobody touched him. Nobody showed any form of distress, not even Bokuto. Akaashi wanted to know when they’d all grown up. When they’d all become well-off upper class society. 

Kuroo sat down on the sofa next to Akaashi and asked, “Is it okay if I patch you up?”

Akaashi looked at him through hooded and dull eyes. “And what if I said no?”

“Then I wouldn’t,” Kuroo said simply.

Akaashi closed his eyes again, face pinching as he fought back more tears at Kuroo’s words. He nodded, giving Kuroo permission to clean and bandage his wounds.

Kuroo was silent while he worked. Nobody said anything when Akaashi lifted off his sweater, exposing his black and blue back and chest. He kept his sweater around his arms, hiding the cuts that littered his forearms. 

When Kuroo finished, Bokuto offered Akaashi a glass of water, then asked, “How long has this been going on?”

Akaashi stared blankly at the coffee table, the Xanax beginning to take hold of him and wipe any thoughts from entering his mind. He thought about Bokuto’s question, taking longer than necessary to respond with: “Which part?”

“I guess…” Bokuto hesitated, considering his words carefully. “The abuse. How long has Shinji been hitting you?”

Akaashi felt his mind lapse again, struggling to process Bokuto’s words.

“Two months, maybe,” he mumbled. “It hasn’t been this bad though.” He laughed to himself, beginning to feel ridiculous in the entire situation. He shook his head, huffing soundless laughs. “It was an event this weekend.”

“What?” 

Akaashi slid his unfocused eyes towards Kuroo. “A special Beat-The-Fucking-Shit-Out-of-Akaashi-Keiji Event. This weekend was the debut.”

“Okay…” Bokuto said slowly. He eyed the pill bottle on the table, beginning to connect the dots. “How about we get you into bed? You look like you could use a good rest. And we’ll figure the rest out when you wake up.”

“I wish I fucking wouldn’t,” Akaashi said, getting to his feet.

“Wouldn’t what?” Bokuto asked, taking his arm gently.

Akaashi leaned into him. “I wish I fucking wouldn’t wake up.”


	13. THE TRUTH

**twelve.**

* * *

The truth.

Akaashi woke up a few hours after passing out from exhaustion and the Xanax. He stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, his face throbbing quietly. He lightly touched his fingertips to his forehead, blinking blearily as he remembered the situation he was in. He sat up and a loud groan fell out of his mouth. Out of habit, he stretched over to the bedside table, fumbling for his cigarettes. All he found was the lighter.

“Ah…” he sighed, recalling that Bokuto, Kuroo, and Kenma had been at his place - probably still were.

Akaashi creakily got out of his bed, swaying on his feet. He shuffled out to the kitchen and stopped abruptly, fear and anxiety crashing into him as he saw the sight in front of him.

“What the hell did you do?” he asked harshly, staring at Bokuto.

Bokuto turned to look over his shoulder, hands plunged in the sink. “Oh, we cleaned up a little bit. You’ve always been a tidy person, so we figured we’d help you out a little bit and maybe ease your mind with a cleaner apartment.”

“I’m not that person anymore,” Akaashi bit angrily, wanting to break down into tears again. He dug his nails into his scalp, trying to stop the rush of thoughts that were beginning to push against skull. “Stop.  _ Stop _ . Where did you put everything?”

Bokuto dried his hands off slowly. “What are you looking for?”

Akaashi groaned loudly to himself, wanting to scratch out his brain. He ignored Bokuto’s question and tore open the kitchen drawers. Organized cutlery. Folded towels. Clean pots and pans. Stacks of clean plates. An organized junk drawer. He ground his teeth together, disrupting the orderliness and violently shifting through the junk drawer for the pill bottles and joints.

“Stop touching things. Stop snooping in my stuff. Stop fucking-” he leaned against the counter, body trembling and static filling his brain. “Stop fucking  _ moving _ . Just shut up. Fuck, just stop for a second.”

Nobody was talking, but everyone stilled. Kuroo and Kenma sat, unmoving in the living room, staring at Akaashi. Bokuto had turned into a statue behind Akaashi, dish towel still in his hands. For a minute, they all stayed where they stood, the only sound being Akaashi’s ragged breathing.

Finally, Akaashi quietly asked, “Why did you get rid of everything?”

Carefully, Bokuto said, “We didn’t get rid of anything, ‘Kaashi. All of your stuff is still here.”

“No, it’s not!” Akaashi cried, spinning on him. He wildly gestured to the kitchen area. “You washed all the plates! You threw out the garbage! You put things away! You got rid of all of my shit! That was  _ my shit _ !”

“Akaashi, it looked like a hoarder-” Kuroo started.

“So what!? Maybe I am a fucking hoarder! You guys don’t know a goddamn thing about me anymore! We aren’t even  _ friends  _ anymore!”

Akaashi dropped to the floor, falling against the cupboards loudly. He hid his face with his hands, body so tense that it shook like it was seconds away from shattering into millions of particles.

Kenma and Kuroo came around the counter, looking at Akaashi. Bokuto sat down next to him, leaning back against the cupboards as well.

“I want to get to know you again,” Bokuto said softly. “I want to be this new Akaashi’s friend. Is that okay?”

“No.”

Kenma sat down as well, Kuroo following his movements.

“Why do you live in a place like this anyways? Surely there are nicer apartments out there,” Kenma carefully pressed.

Akaashi felt his body slowly stop shaking, face still hidden behind his hands.

“I can’t afford anything nicer. I don’t-” He swallowed, the truth getting stuck in his throat. “I don’t work in the literature department. I edit manga manuscripts. This was all I could afford.”

“Why did you tell everyone you got accepted into the literature department?” Kuroo asked, frowning.

Akaashi lifted his head finally, fixing his tired eyes on Kuroo. “Because… Look at yourselves. You’re all fucking  _ rich _ . You all got your dream jobs. You all got great paying careers. And  _ my  _ dream job wasn’t even a one-percenter career. And I still couldn’t get it. You guys don’t know how fucking… embarrassed I was. Compared to you guys I’m just a fucking expendable corporate chess piece. And to have to admit that the job I actually got was levels below what I really wanted was fucking humiliating.”

“Keiji…”

Akaashi slid his watery eyes over to Bokuto, wanting to disappear completely instead of put up with their sympathy.

“I’ve been lying to you guys about  _ everything _ since then. At this point it’s just- at this point I just lie out of compulsion,” Akaashi admitted.

“When did you start drinking and taking Xanax? And… smoking, I guess,” Kenma awkwardly asked.

“I don’t fucking know,” Akaashi mumbled. “Two years ago, maybe. I just picked up smoking from the office. And then… It was easier to fall asleep when I drank. Then when that didn’t work and when my anxiety started shooting through the roof, I hunted down some Xanax. And then my, uh… the guy I get the Xanax from offered me Adderall and that seemed like a pretty good idea considering I can’t focus on fucking anything anymore.”

“Jesus, Akaashi…” Kuroo said quietly.

Kenma elbowed him, quietly scolding him. Akaashi felt a pang of humiliation ice over his chest at Kuroo’s obvious shock and disappointment. 

“I’m not addicted,” Akaashi weakly protested, but he knew that was just another lie.

“What about the hospital bills?” Bokuto asked.

Akaashi blinked, the world reeling around him. He looked at his shaking palms. He thought about the dozens of scars hiding beneath his sweater sleeves. Tears welled in his eyes as he thought back to that day above the freeway.

“I tried to kill myself,” he said, voice small.

“What?” Bokuto asked in disbelief.

Akaashi sniffed, closing his eyes. “I tried to kill myself a few months ago. I talked to you on the phone when I was in the hospital. They had to shave my head for surgery. I didn’t cut it myself, Kenma. When you saw me it had only been a few weeks since I’d tried to… That was how I met Shinji. He was my nurse.”

There was silence for a few moments and then quietly, Kuroo asked, “Is there anything else?”

Akaashi looked at the tiled floor. He tried to remember anything else he’d been lying to them about, but there was just too much that they didn’t know about for him to recall at one time. Instead, he settled on rolling up his sleeves and holding out an arm.

“I’ve been cutting for a few years now,” he said bluntly. Suddenly embarrassed, Akaashi hid his arms again, hugging them to his stomach. “I just… Whatever Akaashi you guys have in your heads fucking died like, halfway through university. Compared to you three I’m… Whatever. I’m not what you think I’m like.”

“We… Wait,” Bokuto started, shaking his head. “We were still in contact and occasionally meeting-up up until last year. How did I not notice… The last time we hung out before this week… all of this was going on then?” 

Akaashi lowered his eyes, nodding silently. “You knew that something was wrong, though. I could tell. Even if you didn’t want to acknowledge it. But I could tell you were starting to suspect that something wasn’t right, so that’s why I stopped seeing, well, seeing  _ any  _ of you. I just wanted to drop off the grid and disappear.”

Bokuto held out a spread hand and Akaashi hesitantly took it, linking their fingers together.

“I still like this version of you, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto said, smiling at Akaashi. “Because regardless of how you see yourself, you’re still Akaashi. You’re still my friend. Is that okay?”

Akaashi closed his eyes tiredly and leaned his head on Bokuto’s shoulder. He nodded silently and tightened his grip on Bokuto’s hand, terrified of letting go.


	14. MURDER

**thirteen.**

* * *

Murder.

“Shinji-”

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Akaashi shifted uncomfortably, body jolting occasionally from the vibrations inside of him, pressing against his prostate. He rolled his head as Shinji sucked at his neck.

“Shinji, I don’t want to-”

“Shh,” Shinji hushed, stroking Akaashi’s face and kissing him softly. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. If you really want me to untie you, then I will.”

Akaashi groaned as Shinji pressed a finger inside of him, pushing against the vibrator. He tested the cord that was tying his wrists together, but it was still secure.

“I don’t want to be tied up anymore, Yasui,” he said, discomfort outweighing the pleasure.

“Aww, are you sure? It’s so hot though. I know you like it,” Shinji said in a low voice. He swirled his tongue around one of Akaashi’s nipples, making him flinch and arch his back. “What if you rode me while your hands are tied? You’ll have control that way.”

Akaashi curled his toes, gasping as a second finger slid in beside Shinji’s first.

“Please, untie me,” Akaashi said firmly. 

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a baby,” Shinji sighed, sitting up and yanking at the cord around Akaashi’s wrists. “I liked you because you were kinky. Now you’re just boring. You know I would never hurt you, so what’s the big deal?”

Akaashi clenched his jaw. The cord loosened and then fell and Akaashi’s wrists were free. He reached down between his legs and pulled the vibrator string, pulling it out from his ass.

Shinji looked at him. “What? Now we’re not gonna fuck? Don’t tell me you’re done.”

Akaashi bit down on his tongue and swung his feet off the bed, leaning down to pick up his underwear. Shinji leaned against him, pressing his chest harshly against his knees, forcefully holding him in that position. Akaashi grunted, air expelling from his lungs, but not returning.

“Get off of me.”

“You’re so boring.”

Akaashi struggled against his weight. Shinji’s hand pushed Akaashi’s head down and Akaashi’s face collided with his knees. He gasped as pain and blood exploded from his nose. Shinji finally lifted his weight off of him and Akaashi dropped off the bed, cupping a hand around his nose. Blood was dripping from his chin and fingers, spattering his thighs and chest. 

“Oh, come  _ on _ ,” Shinji rolled his eyes. “I didn’t even hit you that hard. Get up.” 

Akaashi stared at him, frozen on the floor. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me anymore,” he said shakily.

Shinji groaned. “Yeah, and I  _ lied _ , a concept you’re more than familiar with.”

Akaashi lowered his hands, looking at the blood pooled in his palms. There was blood filling his mouth and sliding down his throat. He rocked unsteadily and he quietly asked, “Are you going to kill me?”

Shinji laughed loudly. He got off the bed and slapped Akaashi’s forehead harshly, leaning down so their faces were only inches apart.

“Why would I kill you?” he whispered. He straightened up again. “What would it matter anyways? I thought you wanted to die? Come on. Get up and stop being dramatic. I’ll order us some food.”

Akaashi watched Shinji leave the bedroom, still naked. He grabbed his phone with his bloodied hands and opened up Bokuto’s contact, his fingers hovering over the CALL button. His heart pounded loudly in his chest. He heard a drawer slam closed from the kitchen. 

Was Shinji grabbing a knife? Akaashi closed Bokuto’s contact and opened up the keypad. Should he dial emergency services?

“Keiji, let’s shower together,” Shinji called.

Was he going to try to drown Akaashi in the tub?

Akaashi opened Bokuto’s contact back up. His phone screen was smeared with blood. He pressed the CALL button.

_ “Hey, I thought you’d be asleep by now.” _

Akaashi hunched over, cupping his phone and whispered, “I need you to come.”

“Keiji, what the fuck are you doing? Are you fingering yourself?” Shinji’s voice sneered from the hallway.

_ “What? Are you okay?” _

Akaashi coughed wetly, spitting blood from his mouth. “Please, I need you to come. Please hurry. I’m- I’m scared of Shinji.”

_ “Shin-? Shit, is he there with you right now?”  _

“Yes,” Akaashi hissed. “Hurry up. I have to go.”

He ended the call and slid the phone under the bed just as Shinji returned to the bedroom. Akaashi quickly got to his feet. They were both still naked. 

“What are you doing?” Shinji asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Akaashi said. “I’m going to get in the shower.”

“Let me join you, baby.”

Akaashi couldn’t breathe. He forced a smile. “Sure.”

Shinji ran a hand down Akaashi’s hair and neck, pausing to pull roughly on his earlobe. Akaashi winced and shivered as Shinji gripped his hip tightly. They got into the shower. Akaashi washed away the blood. Shinji clutched Akaashi against his body, leaning his head on Akaashi’s shoulder. 

“Please don’t kill me,” Akaashi whispered, barely audible. He closed his eyes.

“Would you stop saying that shit?” Shinji snapped. “I’m not going to fucking kill you. Are you off your damn meds or something? You’re being fucking paranoid.”

But then Shinji shoved Akaashi away from his body and Akaashi slipped out of the bathtub, crashing to the floor with the shower curtain and rod crashing down on top of him. A sharp pain shot through his elbow as it crashed against the edge of the counter. 

Akaashi flailed to tear the shower curtain off his head and the shower turned off. He looked up at Shinji, who was staring down at him with a blank, unsympathetic face.

“Maybe I will kill you,” he said coldly.


	15. BREATHE

**fourteen.**

* * *

Breathe.

Akaashi couldn’t breathe. He wheezed harshly, clawing at Shinji’s arms as he gripped his throat, cutting off his airflow. There was water beneath their bodies, making the floor slippery and dangerous. The fallen shower rod was beneath Akaashi’s shoulders, pressing into him painfully as Shinji’s weight flattened him

He released his grip on Akaashi’s neck and grabbed his face, digging his nails into his cheeks.

“Do you love me?” Shinji asked.

“Of course. Of course, I love you.”

Shinji slapped Akaashi harshly before grabbing his face again. “Look at me. I want you to look me in the eyes when you say it.”

Akaashi opened his watering eyes and stared up at his boyfriend. He swallowed painfully, his throat feeling damaged already. The words caught behind his lips. Shinji was heaving, his body shaking with anger. Akaashi was hyper-focused on the feeling of their naked bodies pressed together, Shinji straddling his waist to cage him down.

“Say it!”

Akaashi flinched and the words tumbled frantically from his mouth as he locked eyes with Shinji.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he whispered, hoping it would placate him enough to let Akaashi go.

A toothy smile spread across Shinji’s face and his eyes glinted. He slid off of Akaashi and helped him sit up. He cupped Akaashi’s face, kissing him. Akaashi closed his eyes, frozen as Shinji kissed him, their lips sliding together. Akaashi didn’t move an inch.

Shinji pulled away, his face darkening. And then-

**_WHAM._ **

Akaashi’s head slammed into the sink cupboards, the handle digging into his arm painfully. Shinji grabbed a handful of his hair, pressing him against the cupboard, holding him there. Akaashi’s vision spun and a fist twisted in his gut.

He lurched forward and vomited. Hot, bloody vomit splattered on his legs and the floor. Shinji let go, leaning back in disgust.

“Fucking disgusting,” Shinji mumbled. He stood up and drove a knee into Akaashi’s back roughly before leaving the bathroom.

Akaashi stared at the vomited blood and felt fresh blood from his nose trickle over his lips and around the curve of his chin. His body ached and his elbow was in blinding agony. He slowly got to his feet and supported himself against the wall as he shuffled back towards the bedroom.

Where was Bokuto? Akaashi was scared. He didn’t know what else Shinji had in store. He never knew what Shinji would do; what would set off what sort of reaction from him, but now, Shinji seemed to be getting bolder. He wasn’t restraining himself as much, nor was he as apologetic. 

Akaashi peeked into the kitchen and saw that Shinji had already pulled on some clothes himself. In the bedroom, pulling on clothes, Akaashi ignored the blood that was still staining his hands and face and neck; he ignored the vomited blood that was smeared on his legs. He just wanted to cover himself up. He didn’t want to be exposed around Shinji anymore.

_ TTUK-TTUK-TTUK. _

“Ah, that must be the food.”

Akaashi ran from the bedroom, relief flooding through him. Finally, Bokuto was here. 

Shinji opened the door a crack, slid out a hand, said thank you, and then carried a take-out bag towards the coffee table. Akaashi swayed on his feet. Not Bokuto. He was still trapped with Shinji.

“Sit down,” Shinji ordered, pulling out the food.

Akaashi slowly lowered himself down onto the sofa, folding his hands in his lap. He watched Shinji’s hands as they laid out the food.

Shinji looked at him and tsked in irritation. “You couldn’t bother to clean yourself off? You’re going to make me lose my appetite…”

Akaashi stayed silent. He didn’t move. He kept his eyes down. 

“Are you brain dead? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Fight, flight, or freeze. Why was the only thing Akaashi could do in these situations was freeze? Why couldn’t he fight back?

“You’re starting to piss me off,” Shinji bit. He cracked off the top of the miso soup and threw the boiling liquid onto Akaashi. Akaashi jolted violently, hissing and clawing at his chest. 

Shinji laughed loudly and struck Akaashi’s head with the side of a fist. “I fucking hate you, you know that, right? I fucking hate seeing your face. I want to rip it off.”

Akaashi couldn’t see straight. His brain was buzzing inside his skull.

“Let’s eat,” he said quietly. “Let’s just eat.”

Shinji returned to the kitchen, opening the fridge, and said, “I’ve lost my appetite.”

Akaashi watched Shinji cautiously. “Let’s go to bed, then,” he suggested shakily. “You’re tired. I’ve had enough. Let’s just go to bed. Please.”

Shinji poured a bottle of rum into the sink, staring at Akaashi.

_ Where the fuck was Bokuto? _

“Stand up,” Shinji said. “Come here. Come here.”

Akaashi slowly got to his feet, but instead of approaching Shinji, he backed away. Shinji cocked his head, sighing angrily, and then whipped the empty bottle at Akaashi. Akaashi ducked and the bottle slammed into the wall, leaving a dent and then bouncing down, unbroken, to the floor. Akaashi stayed ducked behind the sofa, heart thundering in his chest.

He flinched as something else hit the wall above his head. Glass and beer rained down on him. He poked his head up over the couch and cup struck his forehead roughly, catching his eyebrow and sending him reeling backwards. Hot blood trickled into his eye, blinding him the same way that it had that day he had laid, bleeding, on the freeway.

“Don’t!” Akaashi cried out, scrambling away from Shinji as he approached him.

Shinji kicked Akaashi’s hip and then planted a foot on his crotch, pressing down. Akaashi groaned in pain, scratching at Shinji’s ankle. He was struggling to breathe now. His body was sticky with miso soup and blood.

“Stop, Shinji, please,” Akaashi croaked.

_ TTUK-TTUK-TTUK. _

“Oh, what the fuck is it this time?” Shinji swore. He crouched down, slapped Akaashi again and grabbed his hair, and hissed, “You better keep your fucking mouth shut. I don’t want you crying out and trying to get someone’s attention.” 

Akaashi watched Shinji walk away and he heard him open the door. He heard Shinji swear and then Bokuto’s voice cut through the room.

“Akaashi? Where is he? Where the fuck is he, you fucking bastard?” Bokuto snapped.

Bokuto came around to the back of the sofa and dropped to his knees beside Akaashi’s form. Akaashi heard Shinji laugh to himself and then the door slammed shut. Bokuto looked up over the couch.

“He’s gone, he’s gone,” Bokuto whispered, focusing his eyes back down on Akaashi. “Can you move? Can you sit up? Oh, my god, there’s so much blood.”

“I need to catch my breath,” Akaashi whispered. He fumbled for Bokuto’s hand and lifted it to his face, leaning his cheek into Bokuto’s palm. He closed his eyes tiredly, feeling Bokuto’s thumb stroke his cheek, despite the blood that smeared under his thumb. 

“Should- Should I call an ambulance?” Bokuto asked quietly.

“No, I don’t need… I’m okay.” Akaashi said. “Help me up.”

Bokuto carefully helped Akaashi sit up, not saying anything when Akaashi gasped in pain as a fist gripped his chest and midsection.

“We should go to the hospital, Keiji,” Bokuto said. “For your arm, if anything. And maybe your head, you might need stitches. Please, Akaashi, please let me help you.”

Akaashi looked at his swollen elbow. He leaned into Bokuto, curling against his chest. Bokuto softly rested a hand on Akaashi’s head.

And he stroked Akaashi’s hair while he sobbed against his body.


	16. GENTLE

**fifteen.**

* * *

Gentle.

  
Bokuto was gentle as he helped Akaashi clean the blood off his body. He helped him change into clean clothes. Bokuto cleaned up the blood in Akaashi’s room and he cleaned up the vomited-blood in the bathroom. He put the shower curtain and rod back up. He cleaned up the broken bottle and the booze. He did his best to clean up the miso soup that had soaked into the sofa.

While Bokuto cleaned up, Akaashi sat cradling his arm and waiting for the pain medication to work its magic. His cheeks were splotchy with what were soon to be bruises. His voice was rough and scratchy from Shinji strangling him. He looked like the broken shell of someone who had just gone through a beating.

By the time Bokuto was finished cleaning up, it was almost 2am. He approached Akaashi and helped him to his feet, walking him down the hall to the elevator. He gently helped Akaashi into the passenger side of the vehicle he was renting while in town.

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi mumbled, sinking back into the seat. Bokuto slid behind the wheel. “I’m sorry to keep you awake like this.”

Bokuto pressed the start button and the vehicle hummed quietly, a steady dinging filling the car until Bokuto clicked in his seatbelt. He looked over at Akaashi and he softly said, “You don’t have to apologize, ‘Kaashi. You- You need help, and I want to help you. We all want to help you get out of… all of this. Don’t think that you’re burdening us or anything.”

Akaashi didn’t say anything, just closing his eyes against the build-up of tears in his eyes. Bokuto pulled away from the apartment complex and they drove to the hospital in silence. It took them an additional half an hour to get there, but Akaashi was adamant against going to the hospital that Shinji worked at, despite knowing that he wasn’t working at that moment.

They were at the hospital for five hours and after Akaashi’s elbow was cast and put in a sling, Bokuto took him back to his hotel so they could try to get at least a little bit of sleep. Akaashi was going to have to call in sick to work yet again.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Bokuto said, pushing into the room. Already the curtains of the hotel room were turning grey as the sun woke up below the horizon.

“No… Don’t… You don’t have to do that,” Akaashi said. His chest was aching, but he wasn’t sure if it was from his fractured ribs or if it was self-loathing.

“Well, I’m not letting  _ you  _ sleep on the floor. Don’t fight me on this one, okay? It’s fine, I promise.”

Akaashi sat down on the bed quietly. His head hurt. His face throbbed. His elbow ached. He lifted his good arm up, cupping his head gently, and croaked, “I don’t have my cigarettes…”

“Oh,” Bokuto said, blinking. “I can- Uh, I can run out to a convenience store and grab you some.”

Akaashi thought about the offer. His mind felt crowded and messy. There was a voice there that he could just barely recognize as his own consciousness, but something about it felt detached and felt like a stranger’s voice.

“No… you shouldn’t. If you’re seen buying cigarettes and words gets ‘round to the press… I’ll go. I won’t be able to sleep unless I get some anyways. You might as well take the bed and try to rest a bit until I get back, I guess.” 

“Let me come with you then,” Bokuto suggested, not about to back down.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Akaashi said quietly. He looked at his exposed arm, staring at the scars and cuts. “It’s embarrassing. I’m used to not getting sleep anyways, so I’ll be okay.” He slipped on his shoes again and slung on his jacket. He paused as he grabbed the door handle, realization sinking into his stomach suddenly. “Ah…” He tapped his forehead against the door. “I still don’t have any money.”

His replacement debit card hadn’t come in the mail yet after Shinji had taken his previous debit and credit cards. A heavy weight on his shoulders pushed Akaashi down to his knees, sliding down against the door. He stayed there, body slumped and limp, too tired and in pain to support himself anymore.

Bokuto knelt down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his back. “Why don’t you just get in bed and let me go grab them for you? No one will see me at this time of the morning,” he said softly, stroking a hand down Akaashi’s hair.

Bokuto helped Akaashi into the bed and then turned off the lights, locking the door behind him as he headed out to fetch some cigarettes. When he returned twenty minutes later, Akaashi was already in a deep sleep. Bokuto placed the cigarettes and lighter onto the side table, watching Akaashi for a few moments. Even in sleep he didn’t look peaceful. His eyebrows were still pinched and his mouth turned down. His breathing was ragged.

Bokuto sighed, tugging the blankets up closer to Akaashi’s chin before settling down on the floor beside the bed, an extra pillow under his head and his jacket on his body as a blanket.

* * *

Akaashi woke up sometime around noon. Somehow, his body hurt even more than before. He felt like he was made of wood and rusty hinges. His head felt like it was being crushed beneath a boulder. Somewhere out of his bubble, he could hear snoring. Akaashi couldn’t quite remember where he was until he sat up and swung his feet out of the bed, hitting Bokuto in the junk and making him jerk awake with a loud groan.

“Sorry,” Akaashi apologized. His voice was barely audible, coarse and wheezy. 

After groaning and rolling around for a few seconds, Bokuto sat up and looked at Akaashi, asking, “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine,” Akaashi said, the lie sliding out of his mouth with ease despite how he  _ knew _ that Bokuto knew he couldn’t have felt anything resembling ‘fine’.

Bokuto gave him a look, narrowing his eyes. “Liar. Come on, I’ll buy us some breakfast and then take you back to your place so you can grab some things.”

“Grab some things?” Akaashi asked, his frown deepening.

“Yeah, I’m going to take you to Kenma’s,” Boktuo said, as if it was obvious.

Akaashi dug his nails into his arm unconsciously, desperately wishing he had something to dampen his thoughts and feelings - alcohol, drugs, a blade, anything. “Why are you taking me to his place?”

Bokuto stood up and then sat down on the bed beside Akaashi. “So that you’re  _ safe _ ,” he said. “Shinji knows where you live. You can’t be anywhere near him anymore. And…” Bokuto reached over and grabbed Akaashi’s hand, pulling it away from his damaged arm. “So that someone can be there to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

Akaashi looked at Bokuto. He looked away quickly, hiding his face as he quietly said, “Oh. I forgot that you have to go back to… the team.”

“Yeah… which is why I’d feel better if I knew that you were somewhere safe before I have to leave. Kenma already agreed to let you crash at his place. And Kenma works from home anyways, so he’ll be there to make sure that you’re… doing okay.”

“What about my job? Am I just supposed to quit?” Akaashi bit, voice harsher than he intended.

Bokuto hesitated and then carefully said, “Maybe you should consider it. Or at least… maybe request a leave of absence.”

“You don’t think I can handle my job anymore?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, I’m just saying that maybe you should focus on getting better-”

Akaashi sprung off the bed, tearing his hand away from Bokuto, and shouting, “I’m not  _ sick _ !”

Bokuto inhaled sharply, lifting his hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but… Keiji, you’re not doing well and even you have to acknowledge that. You need to get better before putting the stress of work back on yourself.”

“I’m not sick!” Akaashi groaned and hunched over, arm hugging his midsection. His thundering heart felt like it was trying to snap his fractured ribs. He glimpsed at the cigarettes and quickly snatched them off the side table. “I need a smoke. Just- Just leave me alone for a minute. I had this under control until you three burst back into my life.”

Akaashi left the room, still in his pyjamas and hair a mess, and smashed the down button on the elevator. As he waited for it, he half hoped that Bokuto would come after him and join him outside, but he never did. 


End file.
